


One In the Eye

by branwyn



Series: Person of Interest stories by branwyn [12]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Fusco is a cryptid, Gen, Surveillance, boundaries are enforced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27257485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/branwyn/pseuds/branwyn
Summary: “I don’t want to hear a Batman story,” Lee complains.
Relationships: Harold Finch/Lionel Fusco, Lee Fusco & Lionel Fusco
Series: Person of Interest stories by branwyn [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641835
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29
Collections: Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!





	One In the Eye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [livenudebigfoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livenudebigfoot/gifts).



There are five cameras in Lionel Fusco’s apartment. One of them is positioned in the bedroom that his son Lee uses when he stays over, in the air vent above the closet. It only activates when someone of adult height walks through the door. There’s little chance the camera will be detected; the air vent is 11 feet off the ground, and Detective Fusco doesn’t own a stepladder.

Tonight, just before midnight, Fusco_Cam 5 activates when Detective Fusco enters his son’s bedroom to tuck him in and put the lights out. 

“Tell me a story,” Lee demands. 

“Thought you were too old for stories,” says the detective.

“Only if they’re dumb. Tell me a scary one.”

Fusco shoves his hands in his pockets. “What, like ghosts? Monster stuff?”

Lee shrugs his shoulders extravagantly. “It’s almost Halloween,” he says, like that’s all the explanation his father should need.

“How about we rent a scary movie tomorrow night? Your old man’s worn out.”

Lee gives an exaggerated sigh. “It’s okay. You can just say you don’t know any good stories. I get it.”

“Hey, I got plenty of stories. But what if I get you good and spooked, and then you go back to your mom’s and have a bad dream? She’ll read me the riot act.”

“Aww, c’mon.”

“I’m just sayin’. You had a nightmare after you watched that Home Alone movie.” 

“I was _seven_ and I _threw up_ , ‘cause I was _sick_ , not ‘cause I was _scared_.”

“Is that right?” Fusco sits lightly on the edge of Lee’s mattress. “All right. One story, and you shut up and go to sleep after that, right?”

Lee burrows under the covers like a promise. “As long as it’s good.”

Fusco turns off the wall switch, so the only light in the room comes from the one small lamp on the table next to the bed. The effect is pleasingly cozy, as if father and son were huddled around a camp fire.

For storytelling purposes, Fusco affects a slightly different voice than his regular one. Deeper, with a bit of a rumble in his chest.

“Once upon a time,” he begins, “there was this monster. He lived on the roof of a big tall building and all night long he’d watch people in the city down below.”

“I don’t want to hear a Batman story,” Lee complains.

“It ain’t a Batman story, you gonna let me tell this or what?”

Grunting, Lee squinches his eyes shut.

“So this monster. He had hundreds, maybe thousands of eyes. Some of ‘em were big and crazy looking, like how squids got those eyes big as soccer balls. Some were little and beady, like you get on a mouse or a bird. The monster could see all over the place with those eyes. Even inside people’s heads sometimes. Like if they were real mean, he could see that. If they wanted to do bad stuff, he’d stop ‘em. Not all monsters are bad news.”

“Muppets,” Lee mumbles, fighting against sleep. 

“Hey, he could live on Sesame Street for all I know.” 

Fusco stands up, rubbing his lower back, and starts picking up Lee’s discarded hockey gear off the floor. “The thing about this monster guy is, he’s the only monster like him. Like, there are all kinds of monsters out there, a monster’s just someone who can do stuff other people can’t. And some of ‘em are good and some are bad, but ain’t none of ‘em can do what this monster does.”

Fusco glances slowly around the room. When he moved here after his divorce, he picked this room for Lee because the fire escape is just outside. His gaze sweeps past the closet door to the window.

In its hiding place eleven feet up, the surveillance camera shorts.

“So our monster, he’s pretty special.” It’s an audio-only feed now. “But also, he misses important stuff. He thinks he’s different from all the other monsters, so he never stops to consider that there might be

someone

looking

back.”

Without warning, the camera feed reappears on the monitor. One blue eye stares into the lens from inches away. 

Eleven feet below, Lee is in bed, fast asleep.

“Stay the hell out of my kid’s room,” says Fusco.

At his desk on the other side of the city, Harold chokes.


End file.
